


A Little Past Stockholm

by Arsenic, Sizna



Series: A Bat and Some Authority [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Midnighter (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mild D/s, Multi, Smut, Torture Recovery, batfamily dynamics, because comics reasoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sizna/pseuds/Sizna
Summary: Sequel toFavor for an Old Kidnapee.  Dick stays a few more days, Apollo and Midnighter talk poly logistics, there's some sex and some domesticity.





	A Little Past Stockholm

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and hugs to my beta Teeelsie, who's put up with me changing fandoms on her. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> I...really don't know what to say about working with Sizna. Like, I have, on many occasions during this process considered flying across and ocean and asking her to marry me. I have not really taken the option off the table yet. She's SO unfairly, amazingly, egregiously talented, and she made THREE pieces of art for this tiny little fic just out of the goodness of her own heart. I'm pretty sure that after a decade of doing BB's in fandoms, I'm never going to be able to do another one again, because I've been spoiled for working with a fanartist. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, go feed her, either at her tumblr, @crow_sizna or her account here, which is listed as a co-creator and which will be linked after each pic.
> 
> Another significant thanks to the mods of the DCBB. Not only was this challenge FIERCELY organized in a way that blew my mind, they took over when it looked like this challenge was going to die the very first year I'm in this fandom, and I really cannot relay my gratitude enough.

Dick likes Andrew and M's apartment. He imagines it's the kind of place you get when you have some idea of interior design that wasn't learned either in a circus or a home that everyone calls "the Manor." Or both. Both _really_ fucks your design sense for all time.

The apartment has sleek lines and tons of natural light with none of the sterility he would expect from such a modern-looking loft. Despite the exposed vents and rafters, there's warmth in the butcher block counters of the kitchen, the oversized sofa he's currently living on, and the way the rooms flow into each other, around each other, with only the most perfunctory separation. The art is a little too abstract for Dick, but even so, there's something very personal about it, no sense that it was mass-marketed at Target.

Damian had come by again earlier in the day to bring him a phone—not his old one, which had been in his suit when they'd taken it off him—and glare murderously at his injuries. Dick made him play a game of checkers and then go gallivant with Jon, who is the one other person Dick knows can cheer Damian up. Damian departed moodily and with the dire warning, "I'm going to tell Clark what happened."

Dick will be shocked if Bruce hasn't already. When Dick isn't around for Bruce to be emotionally repressed and yet freaked out in front of, and Alfred is stress-baking out his own issues, Clark is generally the one who has to back Bruce off the ledge. Honestly, it's a little amazing Bruce hasn't come to yell at Dick. He wonders if Midnighter has warded that off. If so, he owes the guy a blowjob. Or something fancier.

Which leads him back to the call he needs to make. Having just woken up from his second nap of the day, he's decently sharp. He’s backed off most of the morphine and is basically just on Codeine at this point, so he can focus for about thirty whole minutes at a time. Andrew and M are out, having left the note, "Went for a run and to grab some stuff for dinner, M has his phone on him." Which, haha.

It makes it a good time to make this call, since he doesn't want to be overheard. He brings up the contact and hits the call button. Roy answers, "Dickiebird," sounding pretty delighted to be hearing from him. It's possible Dick should keep in better touch with his friends.

"Hey Roy. You got a minute?"

"For you? Five. Count 'em."

Dick laughs and then cuts that off with a whine. Roy says, "Grapevine has it you're a little worse for wear."

"Little bit," Dick admits. "It'll heal."

Roy snorts. "Yeah, okay."

Dick winces at all the things they don't talk about, all the things that haven't healed, but that's not the point of this conversation. "Roy, you and Jay are together, right? Like, that's not an extended bromance thing?"

"Seriously? Jay hasn't—seriously?"

"He plays it close to the vest, you know that."

"And here I was just thinking Bruce wouldn't invite me over because he disapproved of a heroin addict for a son-in-law."

"I mean, B probably knows, but also probably not from Jason, and for all his stupid around Jason, he can occasionally figure out when to give him the space he needs."

"Jesus," Roy says.

"Sorry?"

"Not on you. Did you just call to ask that?"

"No, I called because I've got two seriously hot men flirting with me and I need dating advice."

"I can't decide if this is the best day of my life or about to drive me to a relapse."

"Not funny," Dick tells him.

"It’s hilarious," he counters. "Anyone I know?"

"Acquaintance from my Spyral stint and his husband. Our type but not our group."

"Wait, wait, is this the dude Jason likes to call Scary Gay Batman?"

"Jason stole that."

Roy bursts into laughter. "Holy shit, even better."

Dick's entire body throbs, but he can see the humor enough to smile. Still, "Roy, I need you to focus for like, ten seconds here."

"Yeah, okay, focusing. What can I tell you about being The Gay?"

Dick's pretty sure he's pan, since he has yet to find a gender that doesn’t interest him, but that's beside the point. "If the guy you liked rescued you from torture and probably death, it wouldn't be too forward to give him a blowjob, right?"

"I mean, you _want_ to engage in this hypothetical blowjob, right?"

"Theoretically, seeing as how it's kind of a first."

"Then do this dude a solid and go easy, okay? Like, don't try deep-throating or anything, just, trust me, if he likes you, it'll feel good even if it's just the head. I mean, you've—you've received, right?"

Roy sounds so cautious with the question, Dick has to swallow back laughter. "Yeah, I—virgin giver, not receiver."

"Okay, so, don't accidentally bite his dick off, and no, you will not be considered too forward. Shit, Jay and I slept together for almost two years before it was something more than a with-benefits sort of thing. We could all die any day now, right?"

Dick sighs. "So if I want it to be something more than me being the gay unicorn blowjob giver, I have to use my words?"

"At least a few of them, yeah."

"You might have noticed over the years, that's not really a strength in the Bat-corps."

Roy makes a rude noise. "You're telling me."

*

Andrew allows himself to lag behind a few paces and admire the view. M just snickers when Andrew decides he's ready to pull alongside him. Andrew asks, "So, hey, wanna talk about the elephant in our apartment which we're taking a mid-day run in ten-degree weather to get some privacy from?"

"Starting from a place where if you say 'this doesn't happen,' this doesn't happen, sure."

Andrew glances at M from his peripheral vision. "It's not as if we've never been open."

M throws him a look that calls bullshit. "There's a world of difference between you having fun now and then because you sometimes like the ladies, and there being a guy in _our_ house who we might take into _our_ bed."

"My point was, we know how to communicate about this."

M's pace slows and he says with a cautious bent to his tone, "There's…a lot of water has passed underneath since we last crossed this bridge."

Andrew's so surprised by M's uncertainty, he nearly trips over his own feet. "I didn't leave you because you cheated on me."

"No," M says quietly. "You left me because I lied, but I lied because I didn't think who I was created to be was enough."

Andrew sprints a little bit ahead so he can turn around and jog backwards. He doesn't like having this conversation without them facing each other. M will tell him if he's going to run into something. "Which I probably should have been more sympathetic to."

"Not the—"

"Point, I know. The point is you're the guy who went to hell to get me and I'm not even certain I deserved it."

"Andrew," M says, a warning and a disagreement all at once.

"I don't know what you're telling me. I don't know if you're telling me we shouldn't do this because you'll be afraid I'll leave you for someone who's lucky enough to know his own birth name, or if you're just bringing up potential pitfalls, or if there's something else going on here that I'm completely blind to."

M stops and reaches out, pulling Andrew to a stop. "I'm saying don't do this because I'm the guy who went into hell to get you. I'm saying do this because you think the three of us could be something worth investing time in, or don't do this. But either way, there's no question of who I'm coming home to at the end of the day."

Andrew frowns. "I don't stay with you because you came and got me, M. I stay with you because you _wanted_ to, and because without even knowing it, I was waiting, like I knew you wouldn't allow anything to happen to me."

M nods. "We've got each other's backs."

"I don't know what will happen if we try this with Grayson. Neither do you. It's not a fight, you can't predict it."

"Annoyingly."

Andrew laughs. "There's something to be said for having some mystery in life."

M tilts his head to the side, smiling. "Is that a yes? Let's try this?"

"Maybe. Let's go home and take a dangerously hot shower, make some cocoa, put the big marshmallows in, and see how Grayson handles an afternoon in front of the fire playing rummy."

"I like this plan." M starts running again, sprinting around Andrew.

Andrew pivots and catches up easily. "Yes, well, it involves hot cocoa, and you are very predictable in certain ways."

*

When M and Andrew roll back into the apartment, Dick is watching Pitbulls & Parolees like there might be a plot twist and he doesn't want to miss it. Andrew's pretty sure it's not that deep, but Dick also still looks like he went nine rounds with a grizzly bear on steroids, so that probably has something to do with it.

"Look who's alive," M says, and makes a pass by the sofa to tousle Dick's hair.

"How was the run?" Dick asks. His voice remains a little rough from screaming.

"Cold," M says. "I was promised hot cocoa. With marshmallows."

"I was promised a shower," Andrew says. M leers at him. He rolls his eyes. He also strips off his top as he heads toward the bedroom. A glance over his shoulder shows him Dick's not quite as interested in what's happening on the television screen anymore.

M comes up behind him and pushes him toward the room. "Wow, tease much?"

"Was wondering if he'd notice. It's you he's got a thing for."

Now that they're in the bedroom, M peels off his running gear. "Are you jealous?"

Andrew shakes his head. "No, I like it when others look at you, like that I know exactly who you want and it's not them. But you do want him, so if we're going to do this, and he wants you, he needs to want me too."

"And you? You want him?"

Andrew shrugs, flipping on the water in the shower. "He's intriguing. All the Bats are, in a way. Their humanity should inhibit them."

"Should," M echoes.

"Physically, I suppose it does. Morally, it perhaps makes them stronger than any meta or alien or cyborg. I find it…enticing. And he is, in particular, interesting; the boy who humanized Batman without destroying him, the man who created a legacy of his own with little more than patience and a shit heap of a city."

M steps into the shower, tipping his head back. Andrew looks at the long line of his throat. M asks, "You coming?"

Andrew gets in. "Didn't think we were at that part of the proceedings yet."

*

Dick falls asleep while they're in the shower. He doesn't mean to. He's clinging to the narrative arc of one of the prisoners like a lifeline. In the end, it's not enough.

He wakes to the sinking of the sun on the horizon, pink-gold permeating the apartment through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Someone has clearly rearranged him, since he was definitely not slightly propped up to make it easier on his injuries with a blanket over him when he passed out in front of the television. He calls out, "Did I miss hot chocolate?"

M appears in Dick's peripheral vision with a glass of water and helps Dick straighten up in order to drink it. Dick breathes through the pain of moving and acknowledges, privately, that it might take more than a couple of days to heal up this time. He's certain he'll be able to manage on his own by tomorrow—or, at the very least, make it to the Manor, where Alfred will help until he can—but patrol and his job are probably going to have to wait a few more days. Hopefully no more than that. It's hard to claim a flu that lasts over a week without having coworkers suspect he's either dying or, worse, full of shit.

When Dick's taken a couple of sips and lowered the glass, M says, "Andrew appealed to the scant good inside my black and rotted heart and suggested it was polite to wait for a guest."

"Mm," Dick murmurs. "Something tells me Andrew finds more and more unrotted territory every time he goes looking."

"Hush your mouth, boy scout. I have a reputation to consider."

Dick smiles. "Where is Andrew?"

"We might have neglected to actually go to the grocery store while we were out running earlier."

"And you're, what, babysitting?"

"Making dinner with what he brings back. It's a very equitable household we have here."

It's very domestic, is what it is. Something inside Dick aches at the simplicity of it. A home that doesn't move, two people making a go of it in between saving the world. The thought leads him to say, "You should have a cat."

"We discussed it. Tragically, we're both dog people, and our lives are a little unpredictable to take care of something that needs regular feeding and walks."

It is a bit tragic, Dick thinks. They'd be good dog owners, and they wouldn't care if the dog was pedigreed or not. Their assessment of the situation is correct, though. "Ever think of just…not doing what we do? Just getting a normal job, a dog, taking a vacation now and then. Whatever it is other people do."

M raises an eyebrow. "Do _you_?"

Dick raises one right back. "M, I'm lying on another guy's couch with holes from butcher hooks in me. Yeah, I think about it. I mean, I'd want birds, not dogs, but the underlying concept? It's occurred to me."

"And everything you've lived through to do this, you'd let it all just…be for nothing?"

"Honestly, I kinda think my parents would be thrilled if I gave this shit up and found someone nice to make a family with. Bruce would grumble about justice and responsibility, but then he'd spoil the shit out of his grandkids and be secretly relieved that he has one kid he doesn't constantly have to worry about. And isn't there a point at which we've given enough of ourselves? Where we're allowed to live our lives without taking on the weight of the world, or even a city?"

M swallows and looks at the wall. "Maybe. Maybe if you're not a machine made for the distinct purpose of fighting. I—maybe the guy I was before all this, he'd agree with you."

Dick reaches out enough to tug at M's chin, make him look at Dick. "You think what was done to you defines what you're allowed?"

"It's more that I think if I'm going to wake up from nightmares about fingerprints on my brain, then I _want_ it to be for something important, something heroic."

Dick nods. "Okay."

"You talk a good game, but I can't see you giving it up."

"Well." Dick thinks of the feel of carrying a lost child back home, the look of relief in the eyes of an attempted rape victim, the rush of planning and executing flight across rooftops, even the clean thrill of a quick-and-dirty fight. "It has its moments."

M snorts. "Yeah, okay, Mr. Understatement."

*

Andrew sits on the couch with Dick while M is preparing dinner. Andrew stocked up, figuring that way M could go simple or fancy. He's sort of interested in which direction M chooses. It isn't that he thinks M cares about impressing Dick—M doesn't care about impressing anyone, Andrew included—it's that the more comfortable M is with something, the more casual he gets. Grilled fish instead of coq au vin, sautéed squash rather than scalloped potatoes. Andrew doubts it's a conscious choice, really, just the way M operates.

When Andrew settles, Dick tells him, "Not sure how entertaining I'm going to be."

He has the drawn lines of someone in a considerable amount of pain. Andrew knows better than to offer a dose of pain meds, though. Dick had begun rationing them the night before, clearly already working to be free of them. Instead Andrew says, "I can make my own fun. Lie down."

"Hm?" Dick blinks. He probably needs to sleep again.

"C'mon." Andrew reaches out and repositions Dick as gently as he can so Dick is lying down with his head on Andrew's lap. "Close your eyes."

Dick's expression is bemused, but he does as told. Andrew places his hands at the base of Dick's scalp and works them carefully to relax the neck muscles. Dick melts into the touch and says, "Run away with me. I'm a Wayne heir, you'd be amazed the kind of lifestyle I can promise you."

Andrew laughs. "Sure, but M doesn't have a gag reflex."

Dick doesn't miss a beat. "I'm a quick learner."

"Evidently a little easy, too."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you had any idea how good this feels." 

Dick gasps, and it's just a sound of relief, appreciation of the lessening of pain, but Andrew processes it sexually. It's hard not to with Dick on his lap, mouth open, the two of them joking about blowjobs. He's not hard, but there's definitely blood being diverted. 

Andrew looks up, over at the kitchen, where M is chopping something at the island, a small smile on his face. Andrew can't remember the last time he genuinely wanted someone who wasn't M, except for the vague sense of loving their teammates, of the way sometimes emotion and sex get easily entangled for him. He doesn't love Dick Grayson, doesn't _know_ him, but he wants him, and that can be a dangerous spot for Andrew. He can do casual, but ironically, it takes a lot of work on both his and the other person's part.

He knows he's too late in saying, "I'm glad it's helping."

It doesn't matter. Dick has fallen asleep in Andrew's hands.

*

Andrew wakes Dick when dinner is ready and carries him to the table, settling him in a chair.

Dick mumbles, "I should probably protest, or something."

"Or something," M agrees. Neither of them has much use for pointless displays of masculinity, and from the lackadaisical way Dick says it, Andrew's certain Dick feels the same way.

Andrew and M keep up a light stream of chatter through the meal. Dick is displaying an enormous amount of concentration toward eating his food. M has gone with butternut squash soup and a side of grilled tomatoes. Casual and easy to chew and swallow.

When Dick has eaten everything on his plate, M asks, "Can you stay awake for hot chocolate?"

Dick nods. "All I need is proper motivation."

"Wonder what you'd do if I told you we were thinking of putting you in our bed after the cocoa," Andrew muses.

Dick honest-to-goodness pouts. "Proper motivation and three more days of healing up."

M snorts. "To sleep. I prefer my men fully and enthusiastically conscious."

"Just so you can't say I didn't tell you: I get octopus-y." Dick's face goes blank for a moment. "Wait. That wasn't what I meant. Or, no, it was, but I didn't say it right."

M has begun taking the ingredients out for the cocoa and is laughing so hard he's bent over the island. Andrew's not laughing, but only because Dick is watching him so desperately that it would be heartless not to reassure him, "Yeah, we got it."

Dick glances over at M. After a second, he begins laughing, too, interspersed with exclamations of "ow, ow." Andrew gives in, rubbing Dick's back even as he's got his face buried against Dick's shoulder.

*

They put Dick in the middle. He stays awake just long enough to ask, "Don't you guys wanna be next to each other?" and have M answer, "We like to share our toys."

Then the dose of meds he allowed himself to take after dinner and the exhaustion of active healing take over, and Dick's asleep within a breath. He wakes up to the sun filtering through the curtains, and, as predicted, he's managed to completely entangle himself with M. Andrew's at his back, his skin just a touch warmer than your average human. Dick doesn't want to move.

He should get up. The last thing he wants is to overstay his welcome. He can visit when he's recovered and see where this goes. M mutters, "Why are you thinking so loudly at fuck o'clock in the morning?"

"It's eight," Dick says, glancing at the alarm on the nightstand.

"Like I said."

Dick smiles, his mouth brushing the skin of M's shoulder. "Well, it's day three."

Andrew mumbles sleepily, "Day three?"

Dick tries not to tense up. "You offered me a place for a couple of days, but—"

"Being raised by Batman made you weirdly detail-oriented, didn't it?" M asks. "It was an approximation. Now will you shut up, go back to sleep, and let us tell you when we'd like you to leave us the hell alone?"

Dick loses the fight not to tense up. It hurts, all the healing areas aggravated by it. "I'm not sure that's a great idea. I'm not really… I'm terrible at casual sex."

M shakes himself free of Dick at that, propping his head on his hand and opening his eyes to look at Dick. "I'm great at it, but I sure as fuck don't risk Andrew over it. Who said anything about casual?"

"You're not always the most eloquent, honeybunch," Andrew drawls.

"Feel free to take over any time, raspberry douchetarte."

"He didn't mean to make it sound like you were going to be a little spice in our marriage," Andrew interprets.

Dick works to sit himself up. He wants pain meds, but he's not going to take them this early in the day. He'll indulge in a shower in a bit. "Reassuring, but not—not particularly informative."

Andrew sits up beside him and puts an arm around him. Dick probably should resist, but the guy is so damn warm and steady. M takes this as permission to put his head in Dick's lap. Dick doesn't mind as much as he should. Andrew asks, "What is it you think is happening here? Just so we're all on the same page."

Dick doesn't think it's fair he has to go first in explaining himself, but he's outnumbered and on their turf. "I dunno. You think I'm interesting. I'm here. It'd be easy."

Andrew reaches down with the arm not wrapped around Dick to tousle M's hair. "Nothing is easy with this one. Nothing."

"Lies," M mutters.

"I do find you interesting," Andrew admits. "And you are here. But I would have packed you off with the other Bats if interesting was all you were."

Dick closes his eyes. "So what am I, then?"

"Funny, for one thing. I like funny," Andrew says.

"Tough, for another," M adds. "Sexy."

"Not helping," Andrew snorts. "Someone who understands the life."

"Understands priorities."

Andrew is silent for a moment. "Someone who might fit. It's never obvious at first. You have to try to find out."

Dick looks down at M. "You can't just fast-foward and tell us?"

M rolls his eyes. "You know it doesn't work that way."

"It'd be easier if it did," Dick says.

"Mm. But nowhere near as much fun."

*

When he finally gets himself into the bathroom, before running the shower, Dick texts Babs, Tim, Damian, and Bruce to let them know he's staying in the apartment at least for another couple of days. He adds, "should be completely on my feet by then."

Bruce texts, "need to come home?"

Dick sends back, "no, but I'll swing by next weekend." If Bruce is asking, it means he wants to see Dick with his own eyes, make sure he's actually in one piece.

Tim says, "gl, Casanova." 

Babs says, "pics or it didn't happen."

Damian sends, "Titus misses you. Try not to laze about any more than absolutely necessary for maximum field performance."

Jason, who was not on the texting list, calls him. Dick picks up with, "Everything okay?" Jason only calls when things are going spectacularly to shit, so Dick feels like it's a valid opening.

"It is a beautiful day, Richard, and you owe me at least eighteen hours of my life back that I spent listening your sanctimonious bullshit on killing. At least. I will take tributes of ice cream and a lifelong Kindle Unlimited subscription in trade, though. One time offer, generous, not on the table very long."

Dick thinks about hanging up. He considers the idea with longing. "Roy tattled, huh?"

"Well, Drake might've asked for some back up, which might've led to me wondering where the hell you were, slacker, and then, yeah, my boyfriend might've mentioned that you plan on getting down with someone whose kill list is easily three times the size of mine."

Dick can't help the private smile that flashes when Jason calls Roy his boyfriend, casually and with a twist of fondness Dick so rarely hears from him. "Jason, you are proof positive that it is possible to care for someone and disagree with their point of view and even actions."

"No, Dickie, for that to be true, any of you would have had to start showing interest in me as something other than Blackgate fodder before I decided to play by your rules again." Jason's keeping his voice light, but there's something cold underneath it. Something empty.

Dick swallows a sigh, not wanting Jason to think it's about him rather than the point he's making. "I fucked up with you. We all did. Bruce is never going to say it, so I will. I still don't agree with what you did, and I don't think we have the right to play judge and executioner for others, I never will. But I'm also not going to stop seeing you as family. Is that what you need to hear?"

There's a silence that's more telling than Jason answering in the affirmative. Eventually he says, "You still owe me ice cream and books."

"Strawberry chip from Shelly's on Broadmoor. I know, Little Wing."

Dick's about to hit 'end' when Jason says, "Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck. With…with them."

Softly, Dick says, "Thanks, Jay."

*

M gets an alert he wants to follow up on while Dick is in the shower. Andrew says, "Go, I've got this."

"I'll give you a heads up if I'm going to be longer than an hour," M tells him.

Andrew makes a shooing motion. He goes about making breakfast, and is seriously beginning to consider checking to see if Dick has passed out in the shower when said houseguest emerges, still looking pretty worn, if somewhat more relaxed than he had been before the shower. Andrew asks, "Feel any better?"

Dick smiles. "When does a shower not help, really?"

"When you can't even get yourself in one."

Dick acknowledges this with a tilt of his head. "Need help?"

"I need you to sit down before you fall down."

"I'm totally good for light tasks. Just not, you know, running down criminals. There's an order of magnitude, and all that."

Andrew hums and pours a cup of coffee, sliding it toward Dick. "M's checking on something. He said he'd be back within the hour."

Dick takes a sip and closes his eyes. Andrew watches the way his face transforms just a bit. It's sweet, the way Dick holds to tiny pleasures. Usually Andrew is wary of charming men, and lord knows M is close to the polar opposite of charming. It's odd to find it attractive. He thinks it might be because it's seemingly unconscious. Dick's charming by nature, not nurture.

Dick opens his eyes again and Andrew takes in the strain around them. "Headache? Or just in pain?"

Dick shakes his head. "Just healing."

"It's sunny outside. We can bundle you up if you maybe wanted to sit in the sun for a bit."

Dick takes another sip of the coffee. "I don't absorb it the way you do, you realize?"

Andrew smiles. "No, but vitamin D is generally acknowledged to be good for people. Especially in the winter. I'll put the coffee in a thermos, sit with you. Just a bit. Couldn't hurt."

"Yeah, okay."

Andrew digs out a couple of M's hoodies and layers them on Dick, and then grabs the thicker throw from the couch. He hands Dick the thermos and leads them onto the balcony, where he settles himself in the hammock, and pulls Dick down beside him.

Dick snuggles in and sighs. Just when Andrew thinks Dick is asleep, he speaks up, "This is—I love my family, don't get me wrong, but they're not cuddlers. My mom and dad were. I miss it, sometimes."

Andrew's never particularly thought of himself as a cuddler, or even super tactile. He can see how, in comparison to what he knows of the Bats, he probably rates as touchy-feely. He's certainly never felt the need to keep his hands off M. And if he had felt that need in regard to Dick, the quiet wistfulness in that statement would have him over it.

"Lemme know if you get too cold," he says.

Dick mumbles something that may or may not be English, and Andrew laughs.

*

Dick wakes up back inside, tucked in on the couch. He gets himself to sitting position, swearing a few times for comfort. When he looks over at the kitchen, both Andrew and M are watching him. M says, "Get enough beauty sleep, there, kitten?"

Dick tells him, "Depends, what are the plans for this afternoon?"

"Oh, you know, debauchery, licentiousness, possibly some avarice, for good measure." M heads over to the couch as he says this. 

"Sounds doable," Dick says.

"Or this," M posits, sliding into Dick's space and kissing him. There's no pressure to it, if anything, it feels like an invitation. Dick leans forward, following the kiss and M reaches out to support him so he doesn't overbalance right onto his injuries. M pulls back, keeping Dick where he is with the slightest pressure of his hands on Dick's arms. He asks, "This?"

Dick isn't stupid about relationships. He might not have had one work out just yet, but there are a lot of extenuating circumstances in his life, thanks. Still, he's aware of how much work they take when there are only two people involved. He can extrapolate, with three. He smiles, slow and welcoming, and says, "Definitely this."

M sits up a little, and Dick watches as he looks at Andrew, inviting him in. Dick hears Andrew laugh and then move toward them. M pulls Dick toward himself so Andrew can slip in behind Dick. Dick tilts his head back, opening his mouth slightly, and Andrew takes the invitation, leaning down to cover Dick's mouth with his own.

Art by [Sizna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sizna/pseuds/Sizna)

Dick arches up, which hurts like crazy and causes him to recoil, swallowing a mewl. M says, "Yeah, okay, maybe not right here."

Andrew draws back and pushes against M's gentle pull. Before he knows what has happened, Dick's on his feet and being walked into the bedroom. Kori would have pushed him down onto the mattress, Babs made it very clear exactly how he was to get there for her, what position she should find him in. Both memories make his cock strain, and he wishes he were in better shape, because being used just a little on the rough side of things by these two would be impossibly hot.

Instead, they lay him down in the middle of the bed in a careful and controlled fashion. He must look as disappointed as he feels, because M laughs. "It's not forever."

Andrew says, "And I think you're vastly underestimating our ability to still make this good."

There's a hint of censure in Andrew's voice, not real, more like…like a scene, and Dick hones right in on that. Andrew raises an eyebrow. M says, "You like working for it, huh?"

Dick catches M's gaze. "Nothing worthwhile is ever easy."

Over him, M and Andrew share a look. Andrew says, "No, guess it's not."

*

They hem Dick in on both sides, take turns kissing him, tasting each other on his tongue. Andrew keeps a hand in his hair, using it to guide the motion of Dick's head. Dick has gone limber for him, allowing the direction with ease.

Andrew's not sure how much experience Dick has with men, if any. But if the soft, appreciative hum he gets when he tightens his hand in Dick's hair is any sign, he definitely likes being with someone who's bigger than him, who can easily manhandle him.

M tugs Dick's shirt over his head, and Andrew moves to strip him of his sweats and underwear. He looks deliciously vulnerable in that moment, exposed to them, both of them still clothed. His eyes flicker to their bodies and he asks, "Don't I get to see?"

Wryly, M tells him, "Good things come to those who wait."

The bruising over Dick's torso is extensive, so Andrew starts with his legs, pushing them open, taking the left one to kiss at the inner thigh, M taking the right. Dick's breath catches in the universal alternate for "yes, please," and M chuckles, clearly delighted.

When they start sharing his cock, alternating sucking and licking and in general just teasing the hell out of him, Dick thrashes a little. Andrew makes him settle with a gentle hand to his stomach and an, "Ah ah."

Dick whines a bit, but does as he's bid. When he's clearly straining to keep himself under control, M looks up at him and says quietly, "You want to earn it, don't you?"

Dick nods in a way that jerks his whole body. Andrew surges up to kiss him, says, "Sh, we're going to give you what you need."

He backs up in order to strip, lazily watching out of the corner of his eye as M does the same. He glances over at M, who gestures for him to take the lead. Grinning, he straddles Dick's face and says, "Open."

Dick falters. "I haven't, ah—"

"Trust me," Andrew says, in part just to see what Dick does.

He blinks, and opens his mouth. Andrew lowers his cock in slowly, and just enough that Dick won't struggle, it will be easy. Dick sucks eagerly, like a fucking suction cup made for Andrew's cock, and Andrew tenses, surprised at _how_ good Dick's unpracticed-but-happy-to-learn approach is. He lets Dick get used to the feeling of a cock in his mouth and then says, "I'm going to go a little deeper. Breathe through your nose and take it."

Dick does struggle as Andrew pushes far enough to just brush the back of his throat, no further. Andrew waits, watching as Dick works to breathe through his nose as told, a couple of involuntary tears slipping out of his eyes. He watches and sees the exact moment Dick accepts it, settles into it. Dick's expression slides from a fierce type of concentration to hazy, focused, and enormously turned on.

Dick shouts around Andrew's cock and Andrew looks over his shoulder, where, sure enough, M has got Dick down to the root. He comes up and Andrew asks, "Want a turn?"

Art by [Sizna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sizna/pseuds/Sizna)

M smiles. "I do, at that."

Andrew watches as Dick goes through the same thing with M, getting to the point of calm quicker this time, if only by a bit. Andrew leans in and kisses M, lazily fisting his own cock. He smoothes back Dick's hair with his free hand and says, "You want to make him come, don't you?"

Dick nods as best he can with M in his mouth. Andrew smiles. "Do your best."

It takes a while, as Andrew knows it will. Sweet as Dick is, M has staying power. But nothing in Dick's body language suggests that he's anything other than fully engaged, intent on his task. When he's ready, M pulls out and says, "Close your eyes," coming directly on Dick's face. 

Dick opens his eyes when M is finished, and there's a flush on his cheeks that might be arousal, or embarrassment, or a thoroughly delicious combination of both. Andrew says, "It's not quite enough, I don't think," and gently pushes at M, who moves to the side so that Andrew can straddle Dick's chest, jacking himself with intent.

Dick can't keep his eyes off Andrew's cock, and as he's cresting, Andrew says, "Mouth open, eyes closed," and further paints Dick's face with cum. When he's done, Andrew taps at Dick's chin, closing his mouth, and Dick opens his eyes, swallowing while gazing directly at Andrew.

Andrew says, not looking anywhere but at Dick, "I think he's earned it."

Dick pants slightly and bucks, his breath going high and tight as M gets to work on his cock again. Andrew lies down alongside him and pulls at his hair, slightly, kissing him with a bruising intensity. He feels Dick's orgasm through every inch of Dick's body, Dick moaning into Andrew's mouth.

There's the slow, languid stretch of stillness that comes in the wake of sex, and then M rolls off the bed, and comes back with warm, wet towels for each of them, which he throws onto the floor once they've cleaned up, and crawls back into bed. Dick says, "Hi," clearly still high as balls on endorphins. 

M laughs. "So good to see you, fancy meeting you here."

Dick snuggles up to Andrew, pliable and too damn sweet to be any good for anyone, and says, "Sleep time."

Andrew kisses the crown of his head, reaches over him to snag a hand over M's hip and says, "Not a bad plan."

*

Dick wakes up from pain and decides it might be time to give in on the issue of meds. Normally being stealthy enough to get out of bed without jostling either Andrew or M wouldn't be a big deal, but Dick's not nearly at his normal level of agility. M's awake before Dick has even gotten himself sitting, his hand pressing gently against a spot of Dick's sternum that's not bruised. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Meds," Dick says.

Andrew rolls off the bed, and says, "Be right back."

M skritches at Dick's scalp. "For a guy who had a butler for a significant part of his formative years, you're not very good at letting others help you."

"I am, sometimes."

"Hm," M says.

"I'm good at accepting the help, just not asking for it."

Andrew returns then, with a tall glass of water and a couple of pills. Dick takes both with a "Thanks," and swallows the meds, then drinks half the glass. "Evidently I was thirsty."

"Drink the rest," Andrew tells him, no room for argument in the command. Dick does as told, although more slowly than the first half. 

The meds are already making him sleepy again when Andrew asks, "How much longer before you need to be back at your job?"

Dick yawns. "Day, probably. I can make it work."

"I don't doubt it," Andrew tells him. "Going back to your night job, too?"

"I'll call for backup, see if Babs can spare any of her birds, what Tim is up to. Someone'll be available."

"Or us," M says.

Dick opens his eyes, not even realizing he'd closed them. "You guys have…stuff. Of your own."

M shrugs. "It'll keep. Unless it won't, in which case, one of us'll get a call."

"I can't—"

"Ask us to do that," M finishes with a smile. "Yeah, we've caught on."

"Good thing we're offering, huh?" Andrew asks.

"I—" Dick blinks his eyes open yet again, struggling against the current of sleep that wants to sweep him up. "Can I sleep on this? I need to sleep."

Andrew leans over and kisses him. "Sweet dreams, princess."

*

When Dick wakes up, for the first time since his captivity, the pain has settled into a dull roar, something he can easily push to the back of his mind. He can hear M and Andrew rustling around in the rest of the apartment. He rolls out of the bed and walks into the main area. "Good morning."

M snorts. "It's almost seven in the evening."

"Feeling breakfast-for-dinner?" Dick asks.

Andrew looks up from the tablet he's reading, sprawled on the couch, to ask, "Why?"

"Well, it's never going to be fancy, but one thing growing up as an inquisitive kid who liked bugging everyone in the circus taught me was how to make a breakfast casserole out of pretty much anything."

M gestures to the kitchen. "Go to."

Dick rifles through the cabinets, finding flour and baking powder and the spices. The fruit basket by the sink proves to have a couple of tomatoes, there are onions hanging from a basket over the island, and the refrigerator provides several options for cheese as well as half-a-dozen eggs. Dick grabs a Tupperware and asks, "You have plans for this leftover chicken?"

"Nothing that can't be rethought," M calls back, so Dick takes that, too.

Dick gets to work chopping, pouring, and mixing. At some point Andrew wanders into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Dick says, "That'll stunt your growth, you know?"

Andrew grabs three cups and sets them by the maker. "I'll take my chances. Did we still have orange juice? You can't do breakfast for dinner without orange juice."

"I didn't see any," Dick tells him, and the next thing he knows, M's walking out the door, telling them to call if they think of anything else they need.

M returns as the casserole has about twenty minutes left to bake, carrying orange juice in one hand and a brownie mix in the other. Dick says, "You're a genius."

"Yeah, it was the brownies that tipped the scale," M agrees.

Andrew eyes the box and says, "We have whiskey."

"Oh," M says, "I know."

Dick laughs. "Planning to get me drunk?"

"Not unless you're the lightest lightweight in the world." M rolls his eyes, sets the box and the juice on the counter and goes to open a cabinet that reveals several top-shelf bottles of liquor. "Life changing decision, Grayson: bourbon brownies or red wine brownies?"

"I've got nothing, I'm a gin guy."

There's a silence that makes Dick look over at them. Both of them are making a face. Andrew asks, "Do you also chew indiscriminately on Christmas trees?"

"Don't tell Bruce, he keeps wondering what happens to all the grand trees in the Manor every year."

Slowly, Andrew says, "Executive decision time, bourbon."

"Yup," M says, taking the bottle out. "It's okay," he tells Dick, "we'll fix you."

Dick raises an eyebrow and informs him, "Better sentient beings than you have tried."

"Sure," M takes that in stride. "But did they have the added factor of being willing to Hoover your brains out right through your prick?"

Dick blinks, since, honestly, he'd been thinking of Clark and Diana, and just, wow, no. All he says is, "You make a solid point."

The look on M's face suggests he knows exactly what Dick meant. He uncaps the bottle of bourbon and looks at Andrew. "You wanna pour like some kind of responsible adult, or you gonna let me do as I will?"

"Where would the fun be in having you around if I had to be an adult in situations like this?"

M laughs. "Also a solid point," he says, and starts to pour the liquid into a mixing bowl.

Art by [Sizna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sizna/pseuds/Sizna)

*

Going back to work isn't too bad. Dick's told everyone he had the flu, so nobody wants to get too close to him upon immediate return, and he can excuse any wince away with a simple, "Still kind of achy."

Getting home is a different story. His apartment is too quiet. It smells faintly of laundry he hasn't gotten around to yet, his milk has expired, and the vegetables in the crisper are looking to be put out of their misery. 

He sighs and gets to work righting things. The laundry will have to wait until the weekend, when he can make it to the laundromat, but he can trash the stuff in the fridge and stop in after patrol at the all-night corner store where they don't even blink if he shows up at two in the morning in the tights. Hell, once they gave him a free chocolate-dipped frozen banana.

He turns on the TV just to have some noise while he rustles up something to eat—he still has bread and cheese, so grilled cheese it is—and gets into the suit. The last time he wore it was when he was captured, but he's been to this rodeo a few times, so he's planned himself time to slow his breathing, ride out the instinctive panic.

It bothers him that it doesn't work as well this time, that he wishes M was there to maybe zip him in and, Andrew to settle those large hands on Dick's shoulders and breathe in time with him. Or just…just be there, present, for him to know he's not alone.

He puts in his earpiece and says, "O?"

"Glad to have you back, Nightwing. Red Robin and Superboy are going to be on your turf tonight, so keep an eye out."

"I might have company."

"M and A?"

"Mergers and acquisitions?" Tim pipes up, sounding like he probably just stumbled out of a boardroom, pounded three Red Bulls, chased it with a Five Hour Energy, and decided that would do in place of sleeping. Ever.

There's a silence in which Dick would bet money Babs is considering whether she should get Bruce to call Tim in for the evening. Notably, it is Bruce who breaks the silence with a calm, "Midnighter and Apollo, Red. Superboy are you—"

"I'll catch him if he falls off any buildings," Kon assures everyone.

There's muttering that Dick just _knows_ is Damian being a buttmunch. It doesn't make it over the comms, though, so he leaves it. Tim says, "Right. Yeah, that makes more sense."

"Wow," Jason chimes in. "Sure you wouldn't prefer me and mine, Nightprick?"

"Oh no. I've got more than enough problems on my hands without that," Dick says sweetly, and hears Roy laughing in the background. He slips out his window, closing it once he's levered himself up onto the roof ledge above it. Waiting there, suited up, are M and Apollo. He grins. "Way more than enough."

*

Dick tells M, "My city, my rules."

M snickers, but says, "As you wish, princess," which Dick takes as assent. The rest of the night is pretty quiet, as nights in Bludhaven go. Apollo insists on flying Dick over the rooftops, which Dick doesn't enjoy as much as making his own way between them, but can acknowledge is probably better on his still-healing shoulders for the moment.

They stop several muggings, an attempted assault, feed a homeless teenager, and drop in on a few street corners just to make sure all the pimps still have the fear of Nightwing deeply instilled in them. Around three, they hit up the corner store with him, M taking over at picking produce after he bitches one too many times about Dick's approach to it.

In the meantime, Dick picks up coffee, creamer, eggs, some of the homemade salsa the place stocks, cereal, and milk. Apollo has evidently decided Dick needs the ingredients for pizza, since that's what he dumps into Dick's basket.

Dick pays for everything and takes the bags. Apollo carries them back up to his apartment. Dick sheds the domino and says, "Uh, stay for breakfast?"

Andrew rolls his eyes. "Yeah, we're making breakfast pizza."

"Oh," Dick says, since the pizza stuff now makes sense. M is already pouring scoops of coffee into Dick's machine. Dick won't drink it, not when he'll need to sleep a few hours before heading back into the station, but the smell of it brewing is nice. He puts the groceries away as Andrew scrambles up some eggs, then rolls out the pre-made dough, defrosts the breakfast sausage in the microwave and chops it up.

Andrew assembles the pizza and slides it in the oven, taking a cup of coffee from M, who pours the last of it into a Thermos where it will keep until Dick gets up. Dick pours himself some orange juice instead, and sips while they wait in a comfortable silence for the timer to ding.

The pizza is cheesy and hearty, and Dick wonders why he's never thought to make it for himself before. He makes it through two pieces before he's practically falling asleep on the table. He says, "My bed's just a queen."

M says, "The better to squash you with, my dear."

*

Dick gets up after four hours. Andrew rolls out of bed with him, gives him a handjob in the shower and cleans him up, then delivers him to M, who has poured him cereal and set the coffee Thermos next to it. Dick asks, "Is it too early to say I love you?"

"In the day, or the relationship?" M asks.

Dick spit-takes his first sip of coffee. "That was entirely your fault."

"Things usually are," Andrew informs him.

"No loyalty, none at all," M says.

Dick takes a bite of his cereal, chewing and listening to the two of them banter. The ease of it relaxes him, soothes away the worst of his lingering weariness. He sips his coffee and thinks about how he's pretty sure he could start every day this way.

M pokes his side. "What's got you smiling?"

Dick steals a kiss from both of them, asks, "What's not to smile about?"

**Author's Note:**

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